It Takes Two to Tango
by perichat
Summary: Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes are the odd couple on Celebrities Who Dance. Jack's got two left feet. Gabriel's favorite teaching method is tough-love. If they can learn to stop stepping on each other's toes, maybe they can win the coveted mirrorball trophy.


This was written for the Reaper76 reverse big bang. I wrote it to go along with a lovely piece of art by Cyan which I can't link to bc ffn doesn't like links, but it can be found on the reaper76bigbang tumblr.

There's a few other pairings hidden in here that aren't meant to be interpreted romantically, but if you want to ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

* * *

When Jack's agent approaches him with an invitation to be on _Celebrities Who Dance_ , his initial response is to laugh and say, "I'm not famous enough for that."

Jack adores his agent. He appreciates all the work she does to keep him employed. But she also frustrates the hell out of him by being so pushy and unwilling to accept that his 15 minutes of teenage fame have come and passed.

Jack's no longer famous. He's not Jackie M. "The Boy Next Door" from the teenybopper band The Boy Scouts anymore. He's Jack Morrison, co-anchor on Good Morning Indianapolis (average viewership: 35,000 households). He stopped thinking of himself as a celebrity the day he started hiding his prematurely greying hair with Rogaine.

His agent clicks her tongue, and he can almost hear her eyeroll over the phone. "Jack, if reality TV stars who are famous for doing _nothing_ can be on _Celebrities Who Dance_ , you are more than qualified. You're doing it."

That's the end of the discussion. Before he can blink he's hugging his coworkers goodbye and hopping on a plane to LA to make his reality TV debut.

He's greeted at the airport by Gabrielle Adawe, one of the show's producers, and a barrage of cameras. He stifles a groan. One thing he doesn't miss about his days of fame is the paparazzi. Jack's old celebrity instincts kick in. He smiles and waves as he makes his way to Gabrielle's limousine idling in the arrivals terminal.

"So… any chance you can tell me who my partner is?" Jack asks with a hopeful grin as he gets comfortable in the back seat.

Gabrielle shakes her head. "Sorry Jack, I can't say just yet. We want your reaction to be genuine when you two meet on camera for the first time. What I can say is that they are an incredibly talented dancer, and you'll get to meet them as soon as we arrive at the studio."

Jack knows about LA's nightmarish traffic, but they make it to the studio parking lot in what feels like no time at all. He follows Gabrielle into a large, gymnasium-like building and she leads him down a series of wide, well-lit hallways. On each side of him are small dance studios with glass walls and shiny, hardwood floors. They all appear empty now, but he imagines as more of the cast arrives they'll fill up with people.

They stop at the end of the hallway by a door with gold star on it where a camera crew is waiting for them. Gabrielle takes out a sharpie from her back pocket and writes his name on it in smooth, cursive.

"This is your studio. It'll be your homebase for the next couple months."

Jack peers in through the glass window. He'll meet his dance partner in a few short minutes, but the curiosity is killing him. He hopes it's Amélie. She boasts more victories than any other dancer on the show, and she's by far the most talented. But he wouldn't say no to Satya, who won last season with an amazing freestyle routine and can make the most clumsy dancer look like Fred Astaire. Or Lúcio, who's a relative newcomer to the show but his routines are always high-energy and fun.

A speaker sitting tucked away in the corner lays an upbeat rock song. Next to it lies a red workout bag, a water bottle, and a pair of black converse. Their owner is outside Jack's line of sight.

Gabrielle motions to the door knob. "Well go on, they're waiting for you. Oh! And remember to smile big for the cameras!"

Upon opening the door he's thankful for Gabrielle's advice. It's the only thing that keeps his face from plummeting when he sees his partner stretching out on the ballet bar.

If he weren't such a nice guy he'd turn around and beg Gabrielle to pair him with someone, anyone other than Gabriel "Runner-Up" Reyes.

Gabriel has a reputation for being the _toughest_ dancer on the show. From everything Jack's seen, it's well deserved. He has a cold, strict attitude, an intense desire for perfection, and a supposed curse to never win the show. In the 17 seasons he's been on _Celebrities Who Dance_ he's racked up a whopping seven second or third place finishes. Zero victories.

Jack's never considered himself superstitious, but this is one case of bad luck he's willing to believe.

On Gabriel's face is a soft expression directed his way. Wide, brown eyes and lips parted just so. It's an emotion Jack can't place. Recognition? Awe? Whatever it is, a feeling in his gut tells him it's genuine and not something played up for the cameras.

"Uh… Hi. It's nice to meet you Gabriel." He holds out a hand for him to shake. Gabriel takes it in a tight, suffocating grip.

(Despite his sternness, Gabriel is often considered the best-looking dancer on the show. This fact does not go unnoticed by Jack. He concedes that Gabriel is, in fact, even more handsome in person.)

"I'm excited to start working with you!" Gabriel continues smiling and shaking his hand for what feels like too long. He looks over him and at the camera crew. "You got what you need Gabrielle?"

In the mirror Jack sees her reflection nod. She and the crew exit the studio. Her heels clack down the hardwood floor as she goes.

Gabriel lets go of his hand, pulling away as though Jack has some kind of disease. All the softness vanishes from his face and in it's place pops up knit brows and a hardened frown. He puts a hand on his hip and studies him with a slow, steady stare. His eyes glide up and down his body. An uncomfortable feeling settles in Jack's stomach. It feels like he's being _inspected_ or something.

"And who are you supposed to be?"

"I'm uh… I'm Jack Morrison." He says, feeling foolish. Gabriel's stare is so intense he almost forgets his name.

"Who?"

"Jack Morrison. I was a member of The Boy Scouts."

"The Boy Scouts?"

"Yeah… you know, the band? Not the scouting organization. Though, I was an actual boy scout back when in the day. I won my den's pinewood derby three years in a row." He lets out a nervous chuckle, hoping a joke might ease some of the tension. Gabriel crosses his arms and doesn't laugh.

"The Boy Scouts, huh? Never heard of them."

"Maybe you remember some of our songs? We had a couple hits. _I'll Watch Over You Baby_ was number one on the Billboard hot 100 for like seven weeks."

"Nope, not ringing any bells."

"Oh come on, they played it on the radio nonstop 10 years ago. Here, I'll sing a few bars." Jack clears his throat. " _Whenever you need a hero-"_

Gabriel stops him with a sharp exhale and an outstretched palm. "No- please, you don't have to sing. Let's just focus on dancing for now. Since you're a former pop star you probably think you know a lot about dancing."

He shrugs. "Yeah, I guess I know a bit. I mean I wasn't the most talented dancer in the group, but I had some moves."

"Let me set the record straight, Boy Scout. You might think you know how to dance, but whatever silly hip-gyrating you did in your music videos doesn't make you a professional. You don't know anything about ballroom." A stern look lingers on Gabriel's face. He claps his hands. "Okay, let's start with some stretching exercises."

Jack's coworkers' love to tease him that he's a fitness nut or a masochist. He rolls his eyes and tells them to stop being couch potatoes. He runs two miles a day and lifts weights three times a week. That's far from an extreme workout. Still, Jack's proud to call himself an athlete, and when he looks in the mirror he's pleased with the body reflected back.

Which is why he's so frustrated the four weeks of ballroom bootcamp are kicking his ass.

Gabriel drills him on dancing for 10 hours a day, six days a week. If he had his way, it would be seven. When Jack gets back to his hotel every night all he has the energy to do is take a shower and collapse into bed. He's sore and aching in places he didn't know he could _be_ sore and aching. His feet look like he ran a marathon barefoot on broken feel like it too. He doesn't remember what it's like to not be exhausted.

He waits for this training to start feeling worthwhile. Like he's not pouring all his energy into some lost cause. In theory he can write an encyclopedia about the 12 different types of ballroom dance. In practice he's as graceful as a fish flopping around on dry land. He wants to be a better dancer, but improvement comes slow and he's losing his patience.

And Gabriel.

Jack tries to get on Gabriel's good side, but from the beginning it's clear he _does not like him_. Every time Jack ventures an inch closer, Gabriel bolts five feet back. He's built up an invisible barrier between them. In the span of a month Jack's gone from trying to be his friend to tolerating him enough so they can work together without issue.

"No! Jack, your timing is off again!" Gabriel sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. They've been drilling this foot sequence since this morning. Jack is drenched in sweat and can feel a blister forming on his left heel. The clock on the wall reads 2:45 PM.

"Gabriel, I am exhausted. Can we take our lunch break and try this again later?"

"No, we're not stopping until you get it right. From the top." Gabriel claps his hands. "And five, six, seven, eight. One, two, three-ugh! You did it again! Stop dragging your feet!"

"Well maybe wouldn't drag my feet if you stopped screaming at me every 10 seconds!"

"I wouldn't have to scream if you could just do it right for once! God, if you keep screwing up like that we are never going to win."

Jack grimaces. Gabriel reminds him of his losing streak about once every _hour_. The rumors about him being bitter he's never won seem to be true.

There's a knock on the studio door and Gabrielle walks in with a camera crew. All traces of frustration vanish from their faces. Gabriel puts a hand on his shoulder and gives him an encouraging smile.

"Jack, I'm impressed. You are really starting to get the hang of-"

"Oh, cut the bullshit. We can hear you two screaming from down the hall."

Gabrielle's frown looms up at them. They share embarrassed glances. Gabriel lifts his hand from his shoulder and balls it up at his side.

"What's up Gabrielle?"

"Be honest, are you two positive you're going to be ready for the season premiere? Because it's three days away and your behavior leaves me with some concerns. Do we need to pull a plan B?"

"What's plan B?" Jack asks.

"One of us fakes an injury and we dropout." Gabriel explains. He turns to Gabrielle. "We'll be ready."

"Gabriel-"

"We'll be ready, Gabrielle. Jack is one of the most skilled dancers I've worked with on the show. I push him hard because he can handle it."

Jack stares at Gabriel with a flummoxed expression. Did he just _compliment him._

Gabrielle purses her lips. "Okay. Then prove it to me by pretending to get along in front of the camera crew for 10 minutes. Right now all we have are clips of you bickering, and we can't use that in your highlight intro."

Jack's never had much in the way of a solo career. He's always had his bandmates or his co-anchors to back him up. Tonight all eyes are on him.

Well, that's not entirely true. He has Gabriel.

Their first dance is a cha cha, set to a quick-paced song with lyrics in Spanish he can't understand. By random draw he and Gabriel are slated to dance second to last, leaving him alone to dwell in his thoughts for far too long. To make matters worse they're sandwiched in between the show's two best dancers. Right before Akande and Amélie, right after Fareeha and Satya.

Jack's neck itches from the sequins on his collar, and he's afraid he's going to sweat off his make-up. He paces back and forth backstage, going over the choreography in his head. His stomach lurches everytime he hears the audience applaud.

"Hey, you ready to go?" Gabriel asks when it's their turn. Jack gives him a shaky nod. Butterflies flutter around in his stomach as they get into position on stage.

Jack gets through their dance without any major screwups. He doesn't forget any of the choreography, or worse, trip and fall flat on his face. He makes a few missteps, and towards the end he almost blunders an entire step sequence. Gabriel senses his incoming mistake and leads him back on track with sharp, forceful hands.

They end their routine with theatrical smiles and their hands clasped together and held high in the air. The audience gets on their feet to cheer, and a thunderous applause echoes through the studio.

He's no longer nervous.

They wait for until the audience calms down before facing the judges to get their feedback. Three accomplished dancers sit behind the table. Reinhardt Wilhelm , know as the fun and encouraging judge. Ana Amari, stern but fair. Torbjörn Lindholm, just stern. They all look eager to share their thoughts.

Ana gives him a reassuring smile. "Jack, your technical skills are superb. You've got a good sense of rhythm and style. But tell me- why did you look so nervous and uncomfortable out there?"

"Uhh… well when I danced in the music videos I didn't have to wear shoes with heels." He says and gets a chuckle from the audience.

"If you want a real challenge try dancing in women's heels next time." Ana laughs. She lifts her scorecard up from underneath the table.

Four.

Reinhardt beams at him. "I agree with Ana that you looked nervous. But I could also sense that you were having a good time. You're enthusiastic. I love it!"

Four.

Torbjörn gives them an unamused stare. "Eh… you might've had fun dancing, but it's clear you don't enjoy dancing with each other. It was distracting how little chemistry you have."

Three.

He glowers at the audience as they boo him. "What? It's the truth! I've seen cats and dogs with better chemistry than these two."

They earn the lowest score of the night. They are left vulnerable and dependent on the viewing audience. It's on them to vote and keep him and Gabriel in the competition, which puts them in hot water since _he's not famous anymore._ Whatever teenybopper fans he had 15 years ago, they've all grown up and forgotten about him.

Jack's kept awake all night wracked by worry that he's getting sent home. The show's make-up artists pack concealer under his eyes to hide the dark circles. He's too tired to be bothered by the itchy sequins on his collar that plagued him yesterday.

If they end up in the bottom two they'll have to go head to head in a dance battle against the other lowest scoring couple. The judges will decide who stays and who goes. If last night's scores are any indication, it's a fight they can't win.

The showrunners save the elimination for the end. They pad out the show with clips of yesterday's highlights and a performance by a pop group he's never heard of. Jack puts on a cool facade, but the wait is agonizing.

When the band wraps up their performance the elimination begins. He,Gabriel, and the 11 other couples march onto the dance floor as the orchestra plays the theme music in the background. Jack's shoes feel like lead, and he can't shake the feeling that he's heading for his demise. All the lights in the studio dim, save for twelve spotlights that shine down on them.

"Will the following couples please step forward." Ana says.

Ana and Torbjörn alternate naming off pairs while a timpani rolls in the background. Six couples are called. His and Gabriel's names are not among them. Jack's heart pounds because he's not sure if that's good or bad.

A spotlight shines on Reinhardt, who pauses for dramatic effect."You are all safe from elimination. Please return backstage."

The six couples in front of them break out into relieved grins. The pair to his right, celebrity scientist Winston and his partner Lena, do a touchdown victory dance. On his left cricket player Jamison leaps into his partner Mako's arms, and he carries him off the stage in a fireman's lift.

The spotlight moves to Ana. "Of the six couples remaining, four of you are safe and two of you are not. One couple had the highest score of the night. Please step forward as you hear your names. Genji and Zenyatta."

The spotlight follows the _Keeping Up with The Shimadas_ star and his partner as they take a step forward. The orchestra holds a note as Ana pauses to increase the tension.

"This week, you two are safe."

The two link arms and exit the dancefloor. Though they both wear masks it's easy to tell they're smiling underneath.

"Angela and Mei."

The hospital soap-opera actress and her partner step forward as Reinhardt calls their names. He pauses. "I'm sorry, but you two are up for elimination this week. Please return back stage and prepare for your second dance."

Angela's smile falters, and she looks on the verge of tears. Mei wraps a reassuring arm around her shoulder as they walk off the stage.

"Akande and Amélie."

They take a confident step forward. It's clear they aren't worried about going home tonight. Amélie is always a fan favorite, and Akande has his own dedicated following as a highly decorated boxer turned business mogul. Yesterday they had both the highest score and the loudest applause.

Jack _envies_ them.

"Congratulations, you're safe, and you received the most viewer votes. We all agree that your victory is well-deserved."

Amélie blows a kiss to the audience, and Akande smiles as he takes a deep bow. They wave as they exit the stage.

"Jack and Gabriel."

An icy feeling surges through Jack's veins, and he winces as a spotlight glares down on them. This is the moment he's been dreading all day. His mind goes blank, and the only thing he can think is ' _oh fuck'._

Gabriel puts his hand on his back and all but pushes him forward because his legs won't move. Gabriel's face is stoic and doesn't betray a hint of emotion. He's been through 17 seasons worth of eliminations and he feels solid as a rock beside him.

"You two had the lowest score of the night." Ana pauses, letting the tension simmer in the air.

Jack sizes themselves up against the two remaining couples. Zarya and her partner Lynx are rumored to be even more dysfunctional than them, but they earned the third highest score. Hana and Lúcio scored only two points higher than them, but she's an A-list movie star with a massive fanbase.

One of them is in the bottom two. The longer Ana says nothing, the deeper in his stomach his panic settles. He knows it's going to be them.

Jack feels something soft nudge his hip. Gabriel's outstretched hand. Jack grabs it and gives it a tight squeeze. His pulse decreases and his breathing calms.

"Your score was low, but your viewer support was high. This round, you're safe."

Jack blinks. They're safe? No, he couldn't have heard her right.

"C'mon. Show me that 'Boy Next Door' smile." Gabriel whispers. "You earned it."

He beams.

Week two is cinema week. He and Gabriel perform a Paso Doble with a James Bond theme. They wear black tuxedos and chase each other around the dance floor pretending to be rival spies. Gabriel throws in some complex choreography Jack's never able to master, but the judges appreciate his effort. They are rewarded with a score one point higher than last week.

Their viewer support saves them from falling into the bottom two.

Their third week is themed 'Dancing through the decades'. Gabriel picks the 50's and they do a Foxtrot to _Fly Me to The Moon_. Gabriel wants to add a lift, but when they practice Jack always ends up falling on top of him. Trust issues, Gabriel says. Instead of fixing their relationship, they scrap the lift. Ana says their technique is improving, and awards them one more point than last week. Torbjörn says their song choice is overdone, and gives them one less.

Once again their viewer support saves them from falling into the bottom two.

They both pick up on the pattern.

The fourth week has no theme, leaving Gabriel with infinite options for their mambo. It comes as no surprise to Jack he wants to dance to a Boy Scouts song. If he didn't pick a one, he would have suggested he go back and change it one.

"What do you think?" Gabriel asks after he runs down the routine.

Jack nods. "It sounds good, but why _76 Kisses_?"

The only small surprise comes in his song choice. _76 Kisses,_ a high-energy anthem he wrote for the band's last album. It never climbed higher than the low 30's on the Billboard Hot 100, though he did score a few award nominations for the lyrics.

Gabriel shrugs. "Why not? The only reason we're still here is your fanbase, we may as well pander to them."

"No, I get that part. But again, why _76 Kisses_? _I'll Watch Over You Baby_ was way more popular. It would be a better choice to pander with."

"Considered it, but it's too slow for a mambo. Plus _76 Kisses_ a better song in general."

"No argument there. It was-"

"It was your favorite song you wrote, right?" Gabriel finishes with an excited lilt.

"Yeah." He shoots him a quizzical look. "How did you know that?"

"Uh… Google, Jack. It's amazing the stuff you can find on there." Gabriel scoffs, and tugs his beanie over his ears, which have turned a brilliant shade of red.

"So what do you think about trying the lift again?" Jack asks.

Gabriel frowns. "I think it's a terrible idea, but we better at least try. The judges are going to be on our asses about it if we don't."

They devote hours every day to practicing their lift. They try dozens of techniques and approaches. Gabriel goes through every trick in his book. It becomes the one kink they can't iron from their routine, and the absolute bane of Jack's existence.

It's not that Jack doesn't know what he's doing. He's got the mechanics of the lift down. He knows the proper stance and where to put his hands and how to distribute his weight. In theory Gabriel should be able to get him into the air without any problem.

In practice all they do is irritate each other and rack up bruises from their constant falls.

At 10 PM the night before their performance they give up. In a fit of frustration Gabriel cuts it from their routine and replaces it with some clumsy, hackneyed choreography. Jack's certain the judges will see right through their cover up, but it's late and he doesn't have the energy to fight him. All he wants to do is lie down in his hotel bed and sleep for 76 years.

Their performance that night is flawless from a technical standpoint. Jack doesn't miss any cues or make any missteps. Gabriel is perfect as always. But they're both only putting forth enough effort to coast by for another week. Their movements are soulless and mechanical. There's an energy missing between them because they're going through the motions without pouring their hearts into it.

The audience's uproarious cheers lull Jack into a false sense of security. Maybe their mambo wasn't as bad as he assumed. It's shattered when he turns his attention toward the judge's table. Ana, Torbjörn, and even easy-going Reinhardt all look grim with low brows and deep-set frowns.

"Jack, do you want to be here?" Reinhardt asks. "Do you want to be in this competition?"

"I-Of course."

"Then show me! Your performance tonight, if you can even call it that, tells me you're not having fun, you're not trying to improve, and you'd rather be back home!"

The audience sits in an awed silence, too stunned by his reaction to boo him. Reinhardt's never gotten so furious at a contestant before. Jack didn't know anger was even an emotion he possessed.

Reinhardt picks up his score card and shows it off it to the cameras.

Three.

Ana taps her nails on the table. Her eyes are narrowed and lips are pursed, but her frustration doesn't seem to be directed at him.

"I don't think Jack is the one to blame here Reinhardt. He's only doing the best with what he's given." She turns to his partner and gives him a piercing glare. "Gabriel, your choreography this season has been routinely lazy, uninspired, and boring to watch. What was that bit at the end? Did you just throw it in at the last second?"

Gabriel crosses his arms over his chest and nods. He doesn't break eye-contact with Ana, but he also doesn't try to defend himself.

"In 17 seasons this is the worst thing I've seen out of you. I'm disappointed Gabriel. I expect better."

Three.

Torbjörn frowns at both of them. "I've been saying this for weeks, chemistry isn't something you can fake. You're both talented. It'd be a shame to see something so stupid and fixable knock you out of the competition."

Three.

"I'm sorry Jack and Gabriel, but you've fallen into the bottom two. Please return backstage and prepare to dance again."

Jack sighs and shrugs his shoulders. It's no struggle to keep his face neutral for the cameras as they walk off stage. He's disappointed, but not surprised. With their abysmal score last night it would have taken a miracle for them to be safe. His fanbase from a boy band that broke up 10 years ago can only get him so far.

"Coming up after the break - it's a musical showdown! Former 'Boy Next Door' of The Boy Scouts Jackie Morrison goes toe-to-toe with country crooner Jesse McCree."

They find Jesse and his partner Olivia stretching on the floor backstage. They sit on the ground with their feet touching as they pull each other back and forth. Olivia crosses her legs and stands up. The top of her head just reaches the tip of his chin, but her stare is enough for him to feel intimidated.

"Oh good, it's the washed up popstar. I was worried we were going to face off against someone good, but you guys?" She scoffs. "Don't worry Jesse, we got this."

Gabriel rolls his eyes. "Olivia knock it off."

"What? Scared Mr. ' _Cursed never to win'_?"

"Oh, yeah I'm quaking in my boots Miss ' _Almost got disqualified last season for hacking the online voter poll'_."

"Hey, _allegedly_. They were never able to prove anything."

Gabrielle peers in through the doorway with a frown. "You guys aren't talking about last season's debacle, are you?"

"Noooooo." Gabriel and Olivia say in unison.

"Good, because I don't want to hear about that ever again. Jesse, Olivia, follow me. You're up first. Jack, Gabriel, be ready to go in five."

Jesse sticks his tongue out at them as they leave. Jack paces back and forth around the room while Gabriel stretches in a corner. Through the walls he can hear Torbjörn introducing their rivals. When the music starts he's crippled with nausea. He'd forgotten their their quickstep was set to _Hit the Road Jack._ That has to be some kind of sign. A bad omen.

Gabriel hands him a cup of water and gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Hey, don't let Olivia get to you. She's all bark and no bite."

"Gabriel, they scored five points higher than us last night. I don't see how we can win this. Unless…"

"Unless what?"

"I think we should add the lift back in."

Gabriel gawks at him. "Jack, you want to go on live television and attempt to do something we've never gotten right in practice before? You're crazy."

"Yeah, but if we don't try our score isn't going to be high enough."

"But if we do try, we'll fall and our score will be even lower."

Jack puts his hands on his shoulders. "Gabriel, this isn't a technique thing. I know what I'm doing. You remember what Torbjörn said about chemistry?"

"Yes, Jack, I know."

He hears the muffled sound of the audience applauding. He looks at the TV screen on the wall as the judges reveal their score of 15.

"Jack, Gabriel, you're on in 2 minutes." Gabrielle shouts through the door.

"We'll be there in a sec Gabrielle." Gabriel says.

"I know we can do this if we just trust each other. Do you think we can set aside our differences for five minutes and just do this?

Gabriel's silent a moment. "Okay, I trust you."

"And I trust you too."

"Jack! Gabriel! Now!"

"Coming Gabrielle." They shout.

The routine flows seamlessly. Jack can tell something is different right away. His smile doesn't feel forced. He and Gabriel exude a different energy from last night. It's warm and electric, and he hopes _this_ is what ballroom dancing is supposed to feel like.

When the orchestra hits the final crescendo it's time for their lift. Jack makes eye-contact with Gabriel and he nods. He counts off in his head.

 _5-6-7-8 left-right-and-up!_

Gabriel's hands are on his hips and he's airborne. He holds him up for four counts before lowering him back down. Jack's so blindsided that the lift worked he forgets their ending choreography. Instead he beams back at Gabriel as he spins him around in his strong, sturdy arms.

The audience goes nuts.

Reinhardt looks like he's going to fall out of his chair applauding them. "Are you kidding me! That was amazing! That's the passion I'm looking for! Give me more of that!"

Six.

Ana beams at them. "Where was all that energy yesterday you two? This is the Jack and Gabriel I want to see more of."

Five.

"Hmm.. that was an interesting departure from your routine."

Reinhardt reaches over Ana to shake Torbjörn's shoulders. "An interesting departure? Just _an interesting departure?_ "

"Gah- let me finish please! I still think you two are holding back, but this is definitely a step in the right direction."

Torbjörn is the only thing left between them staying on another week and him packing his bags. He holds up his score card.

Five.

They beat Jesse and Olivia by one point.

Experience has taught Jack baked goods are the easiest way to make friends. His grandfather passed down the secret Morrison family brownie recipe that never fails to impress. However, he doesn't have an oven in his hotel room. Store-bought coffee and a donuts from will have to do.

Gabriel spends so much time in the studio Jack's curious as to whether lives here. He's already at work stretched out on a yoga mat. He's twisted into a complex pose that makes him look like a human pretzel. Jack stops in the doorway. God that man is _flexible_ , a _nd those biceps._ It shouldn't have taken him two months to notice Gabriel has the body of Adonis.

"You want to take a picture? It'll last longer."

Jack blinks, feeling blood rush to his cheeks. How long had he been staring? How had Gabriel even noticed, considering his eyes are closed and he's wearing earbuds.

"Sorry. I uh.. I brought donuts." He holds up the box as a peace offering.

Gabriel uncoils his body to sit cross-legged on the yoga mat. He reaches up for the box to grab a cinnamon sugar donut. Jack plops down beside him and claims a chocolate long-john.

"So last night was pretty awesome right?" Jack asks in-between bites.

"What we did was crazy risky, and I was out of my damn mind to go along with it." Gabriel attempts to give him a stern look, but his face breaks out into a grin. "Yeah, it was pretty awesome. God, I can't believe that worked."

"Me either. Thanks for trusting me."

"No, I should be the one thanking you. You had to trust I wouldn't drop you, and I haven't made that very easy for you." Gabriel bites his lip. There's powdered sugar in his goatee. "I feel like we may have gotten off on the wrong foot Jack."

"Was that a dance pun Gabriel?"

"Oh jeez. Sorry, not intentional." He laughs. "What I meant to say was I'm sorry I've been kind of strict and distant with you. I know I have a reputation for being a tough love kind of guy, but I never wanted to make you feel discouraged."

"I know. You're a really good teacher Gabriel. I mean, I practically had two left feet before I met you. And I haven't exactly been the best student either. I'm sorry I've been snippy and borderline insubordinate with you."

"Borderline?"

"Okay, you got me there." He laughs. "Do you think we can start over?"

"I'd like that." Gabriel wipes his hand on his shorts to clean off the powdered sugar. "Hi Jack, I'm your dancing partner Gabriel Reyes, but you can call me Gabe. It's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too Gabe." Jack grabs his hand and places his other on top. Gabe follows suit and increases the vigor of their handshake.

Gabe about shakes his arm off before he pulls away laughing. Jack takes a sip of his coffee before reaching for a jelly-filled donut. As he's about to take a bite Gabe's eyes widen and he flails out his arms.

"Wait! Don't eat that!"

"What? Why? Did you want it?"

"No! Jack, isn't that a strawberry-filled donut? You're allergic to strawberries!"

"Um… I'm pretty sure it's raspberry, but if you're so concerned I'll take a different one." Jack sets down the jelly donut and reaches for a Boston creme. He's about to take a bite when a thought occurs to him. He shoots Gabe a quizzical look. "Wait a sec, how did you know I was allergic to strawberries?"

Gabe drops the plastic bottle he just took a sip from and spews water onto his t-shirt. "I uh… I think I read it in an interview you did somewhere."

Jack furrows his brows and digs back into his memory for when he mentioned his food allergy to a reporter. It can't have been recent. He's only done a handful of personal interviews in the past decade, and he was careful to keep them centered on his current job and not his personal life.

"Are you talking about the interview I did for TeenDream Magazine I did 15 years ago?"

"I don't know? Maybe? I don't remember the name."

Jack narrows his eyes and smiles a thin, knowing grin. "Oh no way. No freaking way. I see what's going on here."

"What? Why are you _staring_ at me like that?"

"You were a Boy Scouts fanboy weren't you, Gabe?"

Gabe shoots a frown his way. His eyes wide and panicked, his ears are burning red, and his face looks like he's swallowed the world's sourest lemon. "What? That's ridiculous! I'm not- how could you even- I mean-"

"Oh really? Then what are you doing reading about me in TeenDream magazine? By the way, they quit publishing a decade ago. You can't even find their stuff online anymore. So you have to have read it when it was published 15 years ago."

Gabe heaves a sigh. "Okay, so I liked your music as a teenager. And maybe I owned a couple of your CDs and went to a few of your concerts. That doesn't make me some kind of obsessive fanboy!"

"Riiight. So who was your favorite Boy Scout?"

"Jack…"

"Come on, everyone had a favorite. Who was yours? Was it me?"

"Jack, knock it off!"

"Ahh, so it _was_ me. Did you have posters of me hanging on your bedroom wall, or did you obsessively enter those 'Win a date with Jackie Morrison' contests they had on Radio Disney?"

"I didn't have any posters. I've always thought that was kind of creepy, having pictures of celebrities hanging up on your walls. They stare at you while you sleep."

"Well jeez when you put it that way."

"But…I may have entered one or two those contests." He bites his bottom lip and stares down at his palms. "I always thought it was nice that unlike your other bandmates, you had your contests open up for guys and girls to enter."

"Yeah, I didn't want anyone to feel left out, and I'm bi so I'd have a good time either way."

"That was nice too, that you were so open about being bi. I still get flak from the press about being an openly gay dancer, which is hardly shocking and borderline stereotypical. It couldn't have been easy to be a bisexual popstar in a band aimed at teenage girls."

"Yeah, I dealt with my fair share of crazy, conservative parents who thought my music was a bad influence on their kids. But my bandmates and my family and friends were all supportive of me, and at the end of the day that's all that matters."

"Yeah, that's right." Gabriel stands up and brushes the powdered sugar off his shorts. "So… ready to rumba? I think you're going to like the song I picked out this week."

With their relationship improves everything else falls into place. Almost overnight they go from on the brink of being eliminated to being contenders for the mirrorball trophy. Jack feels comfortable out on the dancefloor and less like a drunken pirate trying to stay upright after having too much rum. Gabe isn't some commander barking orders at him, but a friend he's come to respect and admire.

Their slow, sultry rumba dazzles the judges, earning them a score of 18. The next week their tango to _La Vie En Rose_ scores a 20. The week after their surf-themed Beach Boys jive earns them 23 points, and for the first time they win the viewer voting poll.

The pool of competition shrinks faster than Jack can process. Before he knows it they're down to only four other rival couples. They've made to the point where the show ups the ante and adds in a second dance.

He and Gabe work late ironing out the kinks in their zombie-themed samba set to _Thriller_. Jack still thinks the theme is an odd choice, considering it's spring. Gabe doesn't budge. When they argue it turns into playful banter. Teasing Gabe at how much of a Halloween dork he is never gets old.

On his way back to his hotel he stops at the grocery store to pick up a microwave dinner and painkillers for his aching feet. As he waits at the checkout his eyes gloss over the row of tabloids on display in front of him.

Jack's no stranger to how sensationalized the gossip magazines can get. Fifteen years ago he was a prominent figure in them. There were always rumors circling about what guy or girl he was seeing (usually misconstrued friendship for romantic feelings), internal drama in the band (usually exaggerated), or whether he was turning into a partying, alcoholic mess ( _always_ exaggerated).

These days he only graces the tabloids when they're doing a 'Where Are They Now?' special. His agent has gotten a request for a statement every couple months for the past five years. He helped her pick out which headshot to use.

As a news reporter it makes Jack want to tear his hair out at how often tabloids forgo fact-checking to print what will sell. What they do is an insult to the profession. They shouldn't be considered real journalists. They have no credibility. Nobody believes what they write, and even if they do, they forget about it by next week when the next big 'scandal' breaks out. Still, people eat it up.

And he's no exception.

When he spots the headline "Sparks fly on the _CWD_ Dancefloor." his curiosity can't help but be piqued.

The cover photo shows the judges table, each judge holds up a 6 scorecard. Jack scratches his chin. _Is this about Ana and Reinhardt?_ They're both unmarried, and single as far as he's aware. They were competitive dance partners for years before _Celebrities who Dance_ , and as judges they have an easy, almost flirtatious banter together.

Jack thumbs through the magazine until he reaches the correct page. He almost has a heart attack when he reads the headline and sees who this article is about.

Because _that's not Ana and Reinhardt._

"Jackie Morrison and Gabriel Reyes: This Season's Hottest Power Couple?"

Above the headline is photo a from their mambo right after they finished their lift. Their foreheads are pressed together and their lips are inches apart. They almost look like they're about to kiss.

Jack scoffs. _Framing._ It's all framing. The magazine _framed_ it to look that way.

The article cites "an intimate source close to both men" as their source. The entire _Celebrities Who Dance_ cast and crew signed a non-disclosure agreement. Either the magazine is lying, or someone at the studio is about to get fired.

The article goes on to claim that since he and Gabe are close friends, Gabe was a big fan of The Boy Scouts during their heyday, and he had a few brief flings with some of his backup dancers, they must be secretly in love with each other. Yeah, well all the couples on the show are friends, lots of people were fans of The Boy Scouts, and he does not have a 'thing' for dancers because he dated two or three of them back in the day.

The eerie thing is the story has a grain of truth to it. Even if it's all hogwash, Jack has to admit the author presents their claims in a way that to him, doesn't seem quite so out of left field. He can see why someone would think there's something going on between them.

But there is _nothing_ going on between them. Gabe is his dance partner. Their relationship is professional and platonic. Anything more would be inappropriate. He's never even thought about Gabe like that.

 _But now that he has thought about it..._

"Uh… hey, dude, you're holding up the line." The young cashier gives him a blank look. Her voice snaps him out of his thoughts.

"Oh, sorry." Jack puts the tabloid on the conveyor belt along with his other purchases and takes out his wallet.

He keeps the magazine in his workout bag to show Gabe tomorrow. Jack thinks he'll get a kick out of how ridiculous it is. They can laugh about how the paparazzi are morons together.

 _If there's a prize for rotten judgement, I guess I've already won that..._

Music blares from their studio as Jack arrives. It comes as no surprise that Gabe is already working. The song choice reminds him this week is Disney week. He's perplexed when he hears Amélie's voice counting off over the music.

Jack stands in the doorframe, watching Gabe and Amélie perform what looks to be a cha cha. He suspects Amélie is acting as a stand-in for him. Though the choreography looks more difficult than anything Gabriel would attempt with him. Plus those lifts and aerobatics are designed for someone her size, not his.

Amélie is supposed to be the focus, but his eyes are pulled to Gabe like magnets. Jack hasn't had many opportunities to sit back and just watch him dance. He's never been so enamored by someone's movements before. He's so fluid and graceful, and his smile is warm and tender. He's beautiful. Every single thing about him is _beautiful._

Jack remembers the magazine sitting in his bag. It dawns on him that maybe, just maybe, they were right on this one. Maybe his feelings for Gabe do extend beyond professional and platonic.

He's got a crush. A small, tiny, baby crush. It's nothing he can't handle. He can stomp his feelings away before they grow out of control.

He can start by not standing in the doorway ogling him.

 _Face it like a grown-up, When ya gonna own up that ya got, got, got it bad?_

Jack steps into the studio. "Hey guys, uh... what are you working on?"

"We're practicing our exhibition performance for this week. What do you think?" Gabe smiles at him, warm and radiant. Jack's heart bursts into a million tiny pieces.

"It's really good. Can't wait to see it when it's finished."

"You really lucked out with your partner, Jack." Amélie says. "Gabriel is the best choreographer on the show."

"Yeah, I guess I did, didn't I?" Jack chuckles and feels a faint blush creep across his cheeks.

"Anyway I'll get out of your hair Gabriel. I'm off to breakfast with Gérard. Do you have time to practice again later today?"

"Yeah I think so. Tell your husband I said hello."

"Will do." She gives him an air kiss on each cheek before walking past Jack in the door frame and down the hall to the exit.

"Hey, whatcha got there?" Gabe asks, pointing at the tabloid sticking out of his workout bag.

"Nothing!" Jack feels his body temperature spike. The magazine crumples as he squashes it back into his bag. The idea of showing it to him has gone from hilarious to horrifying in the span of two minutes. Tonight he thinks he's going to buy a lighter so he can burn it.

Gabriel knits his brows and shoots him a quizzical look. Then he shrugs. "Well, okay then. You get stretching and I'll walk you through our second routine."

Jack nods. He sits down with his legs in front of him and reaches for his toes.

 _At least out loud, I won't say I'm in loooo…._

Gabe turns off the speaker.

"So I've decided for our second routine we'll do a waltz. It's a little different from the other dances we've done because it's in three quarter time instead of-"

Gabe continues on, Jack only half-listening. His attention is focused on Gabe's mouth as he talks. Jack licks his lips, and wonders what he tastes like.

He grimaces. _He has this under control._

"Hello! Jack? Anyone home?" Gabriel waves a hand in front of his face.

"Uh… yeah sorry what?"

"I was asking if you wanted to lead this week. Jeez, where is your head today?"

Their mambo gets a lukewarm reception from the judges and the audience. Like him, they were perplexed by the Halloween theme. Nonetheless, they are told their they danced well and are given a generous score of 24.

It's their waltz to _I See the Light_ that steals the show. The audience goes wild. It takes at least two minutes for them to stop applauding so the judges can deliberate. They earn 28 points, with Reinhardt giving them their first perfect 10.

The waltz is the reason they earn the most viewer votes that week.

There's only one week to go before the finals. Jack is crossing his fingers they get in. He and Gabe are the dark horse of the competition, and it's up in the air whether they'll make the top three.

He and Gabe can't outdance Akande and Amélie and Fareeha and Satya. With their talent and ample viewer support, they're shoe-ins for two of the spots. To get to the finale they have to focus on out performing the wildcards of the competition, Jamison and Mako. The pair have been hot and cold all season. One week they'll be in the bottom two, the next they'll be four points away from a perfect score. There's no way of knowing whether they can beat them until the day of, and this puts them both on edge.

Jack's alarm doesn't go off the morning two days before their performance. He's dreading the telling-off he's going to get from Gabe for his tardiness. When he arrives at the studio though Gabe isn't working, he's talking to Gabrielle.

"I just got a message from my lawyer." He says. "She's a little concerned what we're doing might be a breach in contract since I'm signed on to be a dancer for three more seasons."

Jack stands next to the door, out of their line of sight, and listens. He knows it's rude of him to eavesdrop, but curiosity gets the better of him.

"Oh, tell her not to worry, and our legal team will be in touch."

"So have you guys started looking for my replacement yet?"

 _His replacement? What are they talking about?_

Gabrielle nods. "We've contacted a couple of people, but we're mostly keeping it under wraps until the end of the season. We don't want the media to leak it before we make the official announcement."

"Right, you wouldn't want that. I can already see the headlines: ' _Gabriel Reyes Retires in Shame After 17 Victory-less Seasons_ '."

Jack's eyes widen, and he covers his mouth with his hands to stifle his gasp. It feels like someone's bludgeoned him over the head with a crowbar. _Gabe wants to retire?_

"Hey, don't count yourself out yet. You and Jack have been amazing!"

"Yeah, I know." Gabe looks at the ground and smiles to himself. "I have a good feeling about this one actually."

"That's what I like to hear. Don't tell the others, but I'm rooting for you too!" She winks at him before turning to go. Jack busies himself with digging through his bag as she passes him.

"You're late Jack." Gabe says as walks through the door.

"I know, sorry." Jack says, and plops down on the floor to change his shoes. "Hey, what were you and Gabrielle talking about?"

"She wants ust to do a bonding activity for our highlight intro this week."

"A bonding activity?"

"Yeah, like go to a restaurant or something. To show that we have fun outside of dancing, or whatever."

"Hmm… it kinda sounds like you're asking me out on a date Gabe."

His ears go red. "Oh yeah, it's going to be really romantic. You, me, and the half dozen or so people on the camera crew."

"Well, either way I'm in. Just say where and when." Jack finishes tying his laces and stands up. He meets Gabe's gaze. "Was there uh… anything else you guys talked about?

"No. Nothing that concerns you anyway."

The audience gets a kick out of their highlight intro. The two of them dress up to the nines only to enjoy a burger and fries at In-N-Out. They use it to segway into their first dance, a 1950's malt-shop themed quickstep.

Jack dances well, but something feels off the whole night. He can't get into the swing of things. He makes silly, stupid mistakes that wouldn't be excusable in his first week and are unacceptable now. The judges comment that his performances seems distracted, but Reinhardt gives them another 10 on their quickstep, and they earn the first 10 from Ana on their cha cha.

To everyone's surprise it's Akande and Amélie who land the bottom two along with Jamison and Mako. The dance battle is more of a dance slaughter. Akande and Amélie score seven points higher than them.

He and Gabe don't win the viewer poll (Fareeha and Satya do with their gorgeous waltz last night to Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata), but they clinch a spot in the finale without having to dance again.

Jack thought peak stress was when The Boy Scouts were on their farewell tour and he performed five sold out shows in the span of three days. The week preparing for the season finale tops it with ease. He has to learn three dances, a tango, a jive, and their freestyle. Gabe doesn't hold back on the difficulty when he choreographs it. They start practice early in the morning and work late into the night.

When he goes to bed he's dancing in his sleep.

Their tango starts out strong. Jack feels unstoppable as he and Gabe dance across the stage. The audience cheers at their every step, and the judges sing them high praises. But their best efforts aren't enough to top their competition. Their score is three points behind Fareeha and Satya and four behind Akande and Amélie.

Gabe pats him on the shoulder. "We'll get them in the next round."

Jack once again feels himself falling into the groove during their jive. As Gabriel lifts him into the air for their final pose he feels excitement, then fear. As he lands he can feel his footing is off. A terrifying second where he's stuck in midair, knowing his landing will be off but having no way to stop it. A searing pain shoots through his right ankle, and the audience lets out a terrified gasp.

"Oh God, are you alright." Gabe holds out his hand to help him up

He nods. Jack takes his hand, and through gritted teeth he's finishes his routine.

"It was so close to being perfect." Reinhardt says during the judges deliberation. "I really want to give you guys a perfect score, but I'm sorry, I can't overlook that fall."

Ana and Torbjörn nod in sympathy.

They score a 26. His heart shatters as he watches both his rivals earn higher near perfect scores, the gap between them widening even further.

A paramedic examines his ankle during the commercial break. She doesn't think it looks broken, but she encourages him to stay off it for 48 hours. He takes two advil and sits down on the floor to stretch for their freestyle routine. Though it's still bright red, it doesn't hurt as much as it did right after the fall. He can put weight on it without a limp, which means he can dance.

"How are you feeling?" Gabe sits next to him backstage and puts a cold compress on his ankle.

"Humiliated. I think my pride is more bruised than my ankle."

"It's okay Jack. Everybody makes mistakes. The important thing is you weren't hurt too badly."

"No, it's not okay! You wanted to win so badly! and I blew it with one simple, stupid mistake. Now you're going to retire without winning and it's all my fault."

"What? How did you know I was-"

"I heard you and Gabrielle talking last week. She said they were starting to look for your replacement."

Gabe's silent for a moment. "I was going to tell you after the season ended. This is my last season as a dancer."

"I knew it! I'm-"

"Let me finish please. This is _only_ my last season as a dancer, Jack. I'm not leaving the show. Gabrielle thinks we need a fourth judge next season, and she asked me if I'd like job."

"Oh my God, really? That's incredible." Jack's face breaks out into a grin.

"Don't get me wrong, I love being a dancer. But being a judge - I couldn't pass it up. I'll have more time to dedicate to competitive dancing outside the show and costume design. You know I used to make all my costumes, right?"

"Gabe- I'm really happy for you."

"I'm glad." He says. He adjusts the cold compress. "Are you okay for the freestyle? We can modify the routine if you want. Take out a few of the lifts."

He shakes his head.

"Jack I don't want you doing anything stupid to mess up your ankle even more."

"I'm fine." He grins. "I'm in this to win this Gabe."

Their freestyle routine is simple and minimalistic. The music is a slow, soulful piano ballad. Their costumes have no sequins or ruffles. The two of them are alone on the stage, no crazy props or scenery like their competitors.

His first step is painful on his ankle, but when he looks up and stares at Gabe he's able to block out all the pain. He's able to block out the whole world and focus just on this. This is the highpoint of his career.

The audience is silent during their performance. When he and Gabe finish the applause lasts for what feels like an eternity. Everybody is on their feet cheering, including the judges.

They score a perfect 10.

When a special surprise musical guest is announced to perform at the results show, rumors swirl there's going to be a Boy Scouts reunion. It doesn't help when the paparazzi catch a few members of his old bandmates landing at LAX.

Jack squashes them before they get out of control. He is _not_ singing. As if he didn't already have enough on his plate. The boys are just in town to support him. The same way Akande's business partners and Fareeha's soccer teammates have travelled in to support them.

The showrunners fill the results show with fluff content before they announce the winners. There's a full competitive recap for each judges catch up with Hana, Angela, and Genji, who have all returned to cheer on their friends and former rivals. Ana and Reinhardt put on an exhibition performance, a fun, upbeat samba set to a pop medley. The surprise musical guest turns out to be Jesse who performs two singles off his upcoming album while Olivia plays tambourine in the background.

Jack's heart pounds when the three finalists are called onto the stage for the results. He and Gabe stand in the middle. Fareeha and Satya on their left, Akande and Amélie on their right. His eyes stay trained on the shiny mirrorball trophy on the judges table.

He wants more than anything to walk out of here with that trophy in his arms.

Reinhardt clears his throat. "Before we reveal the results, I just want to say that there was an enormous amount of talent this season, and you are worthy contenders." The audience takes a moment to applaud.

"Let's get to the results. In third place, with a beautiful rumba, paso doble, and freestyle last night, Fareeha and Satya."

The orchestra strikes up the theme. Jack and Gabe turn and give them both a congratulatory hug. The two of them shake the judges hands before exiting the stage to sit with their friends in the front row.

"Akande, you performances have been routinely spellbinding." Ana says. "Watching you and Amélie dance is a feast to the eyes. If I didn't already know you as a boxer I would have sworn you were a professional dancer."

Torbjörn turns to them. "Jack, you've shown a significant amount of growth. I don't think anyone expected you'd get this far, but you certainly belong here now. It's been a joy to watch you improve every week."

"And the winner is…" The three judges say in unison.

A timpani rolls in the background. Seconds stretch past like hours. Jack clutches Gabe's hands like a lifeline.

A bright spotlight shine down on them.

The audience roars. Balloons and confetti stream down from the air. Happy tears well up in his eyes. He turns to Gabe and beams at him. Gabe throws himself on top of him in a bone-crushing hug. Torbjörn walks over to them with the mirrorball trophy, and it takes him a minute to unlatch himself from Gabe to accept it. He doesn't want to let go.

The two of them take the trophy in their hands and hold it high in the air.

The celebration in the studio continues after the cameras stop rolling. Dozens of people on the cast and crew come up to him and offer congratulations. After a while Jack can feel the pain in his ankle returning. He retreats back stage to sit down and put some ice on it. After a few minutes of quiet, Gabe finds him.

"Hey, Akande's taking everyone out to a bar in Hollywood he owns to celebrate. You in?"

He shakes his head. "I'm too old for that Gabe. I haven't been partying since The Boy Scouts."

"You're not that old Jack. I'm older than you and I'm-" He stretches his arms over his head and yawns. "Fuck, I'm too tired to go out partying."

"I just won _Celebrities Who Dance._ I should want to celebrate _._ Is it sad that all I want to do is go back to my hotel, eat my leftover lasagna, and watch HBO until I fall asleep?"

"Uh… yeah the leftover lasagna part is a little sad. Come over to my place. I'll make you a pizza."

"So this is where you live." Jack says as he kicks his shoes off at the door to Gabe's apartment.

"What? You didn't think I lived in the studio, did you?" Gabe says. He walks over to the freezer. "Hmm… let's see, I've got pepperoni, sundried tomato, and triple cheese. Which do you want?"

"Doesn't matter. Surprise me."

"Alright, sundried tomato it is. Make yourself useful and set the table. There's plates and stuff in those drawers over there." He draws a circle with his finger around some cupboards by the sink. Jack grabs two place settings and puts them on the table in the foyer.

He looks around Gabe's apartment. It's small, but cozy. In the living room there's glass display case filled with ribbons and trophies that stands next to a TV mounted to the wall. To the right is the his bedroom. The door is ajar. Inside there's a sewing table and a made-up bed. To the left by the main entrance sits a vintage record player on a table with a shelf of records underneath.

"Hey, does that record player actually work?" Jack shouts to Gabe in the kitchen.

"Uh… yeah. I haven't used it in forever though."

Jack walks over to the player and blows off the dust. He picks out a record at random from the shelf. The album cover is written in Spanish and shows a tropical beach scene. A slow, brassy tune plays and fills the apartment with music.

Jack saunters back into the kitchen and bows to Gabe, offering him an outstretched hand.

"May I have this dance?"

Gabe rolls his eyes, but accepts his hand. Jack leads him to the center of the kitchen and puts his free hand on his shoulder. Gabe presses his torso against him and wraps his arm around his waist. They sway together in slow, lazy circles in time with the music.

"So… penny for your thoughts?" Jack asks.

"Mmm... I'm thinking about how good that mirrorball trophy is going to look sitting in my display case."

"Uh… excuse you, I think you mean my mirrorball trophy. And it's going to sit in my trophy case back in my apartment."

"Hey! I was the one who taught your sorry ass how to dance. I think I deserve some recognition for that, don't you?"

Jack rolls his eyes. "You make a fair point. Maybe we can work out some kind of joint custody thing? I'll keep it in my apartment for a few months, and then I'll ship it over to you for a couple months."

"No way am I trusting the US Postal service with our mirrorball. The last time I tried shipping something fragile it arrived at it's destination late and broken into a billion pieces."

"Hmm.. then I guess the safest way to transport the trophy between us is to hand deliver it."

"We'll be seeing an awful lot of each other then."

"Good. I like seeing you."

"I like seeing you too."

Jack lifts his hand from Gabe's shoulder and cups his cheek with his fingertips. Gabe stares back at him with a deep, longing look in his eyes. Slowly, they close their eyes and move their faces in closer until their lips meet.

When they break apart Jack's cheeks are flushed and pink. He grins as he pushes Gabe away and almost doubles over into a fit of giggles.

"What?" Gabe asks.

"Nothing- it's just - God I've been wanting to do this for weeks."

Gabe laughs. "Well why didn't you?"

"Because the more I fell for you the more I was proving the paparazzi right, and I hate proving those vultures right about anything. And I was worried it wouldn't be very professional to be falling for your dance partner, or that you didn't reciprocate."

"Jack, I've been trying to play coy for the past couple weeks, but I used to be embarrassingly infatuated with you. I've wanted to do this since I was 17." He chuckles. "God, a part of me can't believe you're standing here in my kitchen, kissing me, like this is the most logical sequence of events."

"Well get used to it." Jack grins at him and pulls him in for another kiss. He only stops when he starts to smell something burning.

"Uh… Gabe."

"Hmm?"

"Gabe! The pizza!"

"Wha- oh shit!" Gabe breaks out of his embrace to grab a pair of oven mitts. Smoke billows out of the oven as he pulls the burning pizza out.

"Sorry, I'll start another."

"Actually, why don't you hold off on the pizza?" He pulls Gabe in by the hips. "I've got a feeling we're going to be a bit occupied."

Gabe snorts. "Well aren't you a little presumptuous?"

"I don't see you arguing."

Gabe takes off his oven mitts, throws them over his shoulder, and takes his face in his hands to kiss him once more.

* * *

I don't know like, anything on the technical side of ballroom dancing. If you are a ballroom dancer and lots of stuff incorrect, sorry.

Favorites and comments are always appreciated!


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